


Hiraeth

by flowersforlukey



Series: Hiraeth [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforlukey/pseuds/flowersforlukey
Summary: “Had I not been repressed underneath held chains,” Thor spoke, breathless, “my brother would have been spared that day.”The ruin they greeted Thanos ended up demanding the price of Loki’s death, and Thor consumed his Midgardian days mourning.





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> /'hiraɪ̯θ/
> 
> (n.) missing a time, an era, or a person; homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or never was.

Seidr, as less demanding as it was to acquire proficient skill in, Thor had long come to terms that Norse sorcery was one of the few things he found difficult to grasp.

Frigga had never failed to adore Thor for who he was and what true capacity he possessed, and Odin not much less—he had a son almost of exact replica of who he was underneath the layers of amour and competence and kingship, his _second_  skin—but mostly worn pride for the reasons Thor had been giving him through such consistency. A nature revolving books filled with growing knowledge pulled him into interest, yet the fluidity in battle he had long discovered within himself had only Thor desire for more. Odin was more than pleased, even _grateful_ , to have been blessed with a son too competent, although can be deemed foolish and blinded amidst the seek for war.

But Thor’s indifference for seidr Loki could not parrot. There had been several other possible pursuits he could busy himself with, which Odin himself even suggested, the wide expanse of options he’d been asked to choose from, although reconsidered for moment, Loki chose to dismiss.

With Frigga’s attendance he dissolved all existing particulars from books and discovered the finesse in his hands as they waved in the air, much like how Thor learned to wield against a rival and have his eye on another. Loki’s knowledge of his gift became the weapon Odin did not prize him as he did to Thor, but one that he had to _practice_  for before mastering every spell.

Loki was the fragment of Thor he not once had courage to furnish, his equal that compromised a far better understanding for strategy and knowledge and control.

The unspoken truth Thor had chosen not be exposed under haste was that Loki to him had been the only person of all people to possess the greatest fusion of wit, deception, and intellect.

He was smart, _that_ Thor strongly believed. So when Thanos raised his request for the promised Tesseract, which Thor knew very well was among the destructed masses of what had been of Asgard, he predicted the trails of artifice and tricks Loki would be using to deceive the mad titan, only to be surprised with the cube appearing from Loki’s outstretched fingers.

_No, Loki _,__ he had tried screaming, far too voiceless from the layers of metal and leather sealed around his jaw. 

Surrender was unfamiliar to Thor’s vocabulary, although Loki may have mastered it as well contrary to Thor’s living protests. Thor guessed quite correctly that he was seeing the verge of Loki’s power, his weakness against his strength, all happening when an extent of _family_  was put into abrupt prospect.

Thor could only watch as Loki struggled in front of his eyes, a show that played rarely during their years of youth, with an unending hope to encounter illusions in the next blink, imagining Loki and his power and his stupendous control over sorcery. 

“I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again.”

Thor _knew _,__ that Loki knew better than _anything _.__

Thanos’ grip tightened. Loki’s neck began to snap. “No resurrections this time.”

…

Thor had gone for the head.

Despite the noticeable lack of fighting stance, quite immediately Thor recognized what shortcoming would meet Thanos if his axe were to target Thanos’ head. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, of course, however nothing stopped him from trying.

Against flashing streaks of light, what with orange hues and violent sounds of the gauntlet breaking, Thanos collapsed, appearing greatly in his powerlessness as the stones one by one dropped from the gauntlet.

“You will _never_ be a god,” Thor repeated Loki’s words, his brother’s failing voice an angry sound to his ears.

Thor’s vision gave out and he too collapsed on the ground, a show of blacks and his hungry power of thunder playing in his head. His arms jerked in unconscious movement, radiating the energy and power he fought to harness. The fight brought Thor into convulsion, inevitable defects in his constant gripping of hands, until numbness covered his whole body into stilling. Struggled arms gripped his armour with the strength left inside them, and Thor was lifted into a jet that flew them off the fields of the surviving Wakandans.

Thor tried opening his eyes, but he saw the image of Loki’s eyes piercing into his as he heaved his last breath. Keeping them sealed, he listened to his dauntless heart shattering. 

...

The last time Thor had seen Clint, it dated sometime around three years ago inside the new Avengers facility.

To this day, Thor would often remember how Clint had welcomed them to his homestead; a farmland kept secluded under Fury’s compromising surveillance, made his wife and children well aware as to how unauthorized motions of complete jeopardy could be at some point unavoidable. He’d met Clint’s wife then, and took notice of the warm hospitality she displayed whilst bearing the labour of nursing her two children and their youngest, who that time was still unborn.

People, as they could be heard, were scrambling to meet those who just came from the captain himself further into the rear of the jet, requesting the motion for alight. Thor laid his head against the window, watching from above the figures of Clint and his wife coming out from their doorstep and onto the makeshift runway. 

Thor noticed a head poking out from the front window, too small for an adolescent, and guessed right away that it was the youngest child of Clint he never got to meet the first time Thor had visited.

With such memory, the understanding that Clint was the only one (aside from Thor himself) who had a real family to come back to was long overdue. There had been no paternal duty, since he was an honorary son of a king, and instead shared the account of _family_  behaving not only as a son, but as a brother of another. Although it was never an intention to do him harm, Thor could not deny that it _stung_  to see Clint relishing the presence of his wife and his kids and _not_  taking them for granted.

Thor caught on cautious movements behind him, and turning around, he was met by Natasha’s troubled face.

“You still around, Thor?” she asked, extending a hand to the silent man. “Collect your stuff, if you have any. We’re staying at Clint’s for a while.”

_For a while_ , Thor echoed in his head, almost snorting at the words because he _definitely_ didn’t hear Natasha agreeing with Fury through the dented electronic screen at the suggestion of finding comfort in Clint’s farmhouse for as long as they can to steer away from unnecessary public attention.

Without wasting a second, Thor pulled at her outstretched hand and balanced himself onto his feet. Natasha flashed him a dismissive smile before retreating, a fellow feeling in her eyes Thor couldn’t quite decipher.

“Couldn’t be prouder of you guys,” Clint grinned, when Thor and the rest got out from the vehicle and stopped in front of Clint and his wife. “… and horrified, _Christ_ , if you knew how much pills I had to take because I just couldn’t get the image of some of you losing your heads out of my brain.”

Steve chuckled, imagining the horror Clint had to put up with along with the news of his team going against a titan and putting their lives on the line in hopes of stopping the said titan’s plans for mass destruction. “Good to be back, Clint, Mrs. Barton.”

“We do appreciate some company for now,” warmly smiling, Clint offered, a hand of his own meeting Thor’s halfway, and a glint in his eye which Thor could only recognize as melancholy. Thor didn’t return the smile, found himself unable, but Clint continued. “I’ve heard, though I am truly relieved you are back.”

Thor claimed his hand with the shaking feeling of vulnerability. Clint _heard_ , that much to Thor was clear. He wondered where Clint had heard the news from, with Bruce being the only one to have witnessed the scene of collapse, and Bruce also not being entirely mindful of what was happening as he was still in his beastly shape. 

Nonetheless, the sensitive-deeming subject of his brother, Thor chose to ignore. “And I no different,” Thor said, nearly slipping out a mention of gratitude though he wasn’t certain what he would be thanking for. He entered the house when gestured upon, and leaned into the warm embrace of home.

…

Loki fancied the aroma of bitterness, much like an antagonist to Thor’s palate for honeyed treats.

“Your preference for ale is becoming of bore perhaps, is it not?” Loki asked, voice only hovering the barely-awake shape of his brother, slumped on the bench beside him.

A feast had long been lively in the main halls for a fair span of time, as it was hosted not only by the two princes but alongside the Allfather as well. Thor, being met with a crowd of acquaintances, Sif and the Warriors Three, lauded in cheers and merry, always high-spirited during events of such.

On other occasions, Loki would feign the interest to join Thor and his companions, but his head had been pounding shortly after the clamorous choruses of victory from the crowd, and even to stay in the hall he did not bother.

Loki fled from where he was eyeing the crowd behind a set of chairs and used his feet instead of disappearing with the use of seidr, careful to not attract attention especially from his father, as there had been a time for reproach when Loki had unsuccessfully tried to escape one of the council meetings his father invited him to.

He hadn’t gone to the chambers as he planned, as his leisurely walk brought him to the shrubs in front of Frigga’s garden, a place he's only contemplated a visit whenever he lost his mind to an array of troubling thoughts.

Thor found him not long after, and _this_ , Loki wasn’t expecting. He tried reading the lines between the slurs his brother was letting out until it downed on him that Thor was knocked out, but still capable of, or rather, _trying_  to make use of his speech.

“Ah, I suppose not,” Thor answered, later when he was able to sit, putting his whole weight down onto the lean frame of Loki’s shoulder. Loki went from shrugging him off to basically sighing, exasperated, knowing too well that Thor was tired and therefore did not expect less of his brother than to carry him around like this.

Thor seemed as though he was fighting the weariness from the ale because he was still grinning widely as ever, face splinting, an air of intoxication from his half-sealed lips gushing out and anew. “It does only wonders to your head which not even I can stomach, though still it seems convenient.”

Loki shook his head, “all the more I refuse to test, more so, attempt.”

“Lest you actually _try_ for once, brother, you’ll be hollowed out by the anticipation,” Thor pushed, taking a chance at puncturing Loki’s wall with keen interest.

Thor was only half-awake, as all his muscles would not be strained as now had he not put up a show with Fandral and his sword inside the feast hall, but he was stirred by his brother’s voice enough to make him open his eyes wider, to bring himself into a sense of familiarity with the sight of Frigga’s heeded orchids.

“I would, but do wonder who else would be willing enough to drag your careless body into your chambers, yes?” Loki spoke, a way of teasing, and Thor could almost hear the chuckle he didn’t dare let out.

Very minimal light fell upon them, but the streaks of starlight bathed Loki’s face a canvas of radiance and silhouettes in a way that was too captivating, almost _enthralling,_ and Thor only took notice on how little he knew about these words just before the curiosity in his gut began surging and made him search for meaning.

Loki had his eyes trained on the view before them, depicting the merry night found in the feast hall and the rejoices heard from afar, hanging streetlights extending to the homesteads of village men and women. Brisk winds pushed past his black leathers, feeling shivers run down his spine despite the body warmth coming from Thor.

And Thor… he was drowning. In an aspect he could not seem to comprehend, as unfortunate it was, he was drowning, somehow not a fracture of the result from the appealing view before their eyes, but from the view of Loki himself. Loki and his jaw and his cheekbones and his angled nose that caught up the best of natural lighting. It was distressing.

Loki had seemed to notice the unusual behavior though. It wasn’t every day that Loki had Thor’s head on his shoulder and bearing for as long as ten minutes the vivid longing to push him off the bench and onto the wet grass all at once.

So when Loki finally decided that it was time to push him off, and realized that the situation was already far much worse because Thor had already been staring at him for Norns know how long, he wasn’t able to stop the grimace on his face as he looked down at his brother and asked, “what is it, what is wrong with you?”

_Oh _,__  Thor snapped, unsure as to how long he’s been staring at his brother. “It does not concern you,” he answered, and shifted on the bench, removing his head from Loki’s shoulder.

“Very well, it must not,” dismissing this, much to Thor’s relief, Loki untangled himself from Thor’s presence, signalling his cue to leave. “I am in no spirit to put up tricks tonight, thus will then be on my way to the chambers.”

“Must you not carry your brother along, though?” Thor called out to Loki’s back, a playful grin worn by his lips as a sign of the still existent effect from the ale. Once heard, Loki turned around with a merely close replica of Thor’s grin.

“Wouldn’t fantasize of it, brother,” he said finally, turning his heal and walking back into the dim halls of Frigga’s garden with Thor and his defeat trailing behind.

Loki _always_  fancied to be roused not by Thor’s personal liking, but instead the sullen, bitter edge he was always akin to.

And entering Clint’s house with the same bitter aroma picking at his nostrils, Thor was held sway by the mirage of Loki in the garden in the cold busy evening, suppressing unsubtle comments over Thor’s favor for ale.

Natasha was the first one to sit on the couch, Steve following. Thor figured to take the other couch while Bruce followed, though not a single glance was shared between them, Thor was totally unprepared for whatever _wordings_  were to occur soon.

Thor hadn’t really found the time to take in his surroundings. Clint’s house was a patchwork of both backstory and apparent peculiarity, framed photographs of him and his children hung on the walls, and a line of bookshelves beside a window opened for the outskirts of the city. A little girl approached Thor, smiling, holding out her hand to touch the leathers on his vest.

The scene playing out in front of him resembled some of the time he’d spent with his family, and how much he’s longed for that in a long while; the nights spent trailing behind Loki between dimmed halls back when they were merely adolescents, Thor wished he could put to words.

The girl looked up at him with the smallest of smiles and retreated when called by her father. Thor placed a hand on her shoulder as she turned.

“Feel most welcome,” Clint’s wife, who had long introduced herself as Laura, was offering Thor a mug filled with what seemed to be the source of the sharp scent. “That’s coffee, you should try it.”

Thor muscled a smile in return, claiming the mug from her hands and soon acknowledging how searing it felt against his skin. A tray with three more mugs was placed on top of the table in front of him, and eyeing it from the rim of the mug as he began draining the liquid, he realized how his tongue burnt of both heat and bitterness.

“That should help calm your nerves down,” Natasha suddenly spoke, and Thor turned to her to find the look she was giving quite too close to concern. She had a mug of her own and turned away for a second to thank Laura as she left. “Looks like you’ve got a mess in your head, big guy. Do you not have this back home?”

She was referring to the coffee, and for a moment Thor thought about Natasha implying how she’s noticing something, which Thor chose to ignore with a shrug in return.

“I assume so,” he said, “such drinks might not even come close to the mead known famous in our place. Though even a beggarly amount of such that you have offered pleases me somehow.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re liking it,” Natasha grinned, sipping from her cup. Steve stood up to meet Clint in the kitchen and Bruce sunk on the couch beside Thor, still against speaking.

Dusk had fallen more and more as the hours tire the energy left in Thor’s body. Natasha busied herself inside the kitchen with prawns which Thor found rather unfamiliar, and Steve and Clint engaged in talks which Thor could only guess to be of Thanos. Thanos and the gauntlet and the many lives he had to sacrifice for his own.

Bruce was not in the house. The last time Thor had seen him, he was using a cloth from his pocket to cleanse the dust from his worn-out glasses.

Not that Thor cared, he just. He just didn’t have the strength to will himself to _stop_  thinking about Bruce and the thoughts in his head and the things he could say about what happened in the hijacked ship to go on circulating around them like wildfire.

Thor hid himself inside the bathroom, leaning onto the sink as he studied his reflection. None of this felt right and he knew it. Right from the beginning, days before he found himself stuck in a jet back to Clint’s house, before he was forced to carry on the weight of all his losses, before he was standing in front of this mirror in a place where he didn’t even wish to stay.

In his right mind, Thor would’ve fallen apart, but even now his mind has clogged up too much of this reality that all he was able to feel was utter confusion.

Thor was washing his hands briefly before the sound of the door creaking open replaced the silence in the room, and of course Thor wasn't expecting Bruce to be standing on the other side and looking at him like a deer caught in headlights.

Bruce immediately began retreating, “sorry, I didn’t think—”

“All is fine,” Thor rushed out, walking past Bruce to exit the room. He did not spare another glance as he walked away from the bathroom. Still he felt the curious eyes of Bruce digging into the back of his head like sharp knives.

Thor was eating dinner like he thought it was poisoned. The fork in his hand took little to no piece of the prawns Laura had steamed. Bruce was definitely trying not to notice too much of Thor’s ghostly ambiance, but it was hardly possible when Thor’s silence was already becoming contagious.

Natasha seemed to notice as well, stealing a glance between Bruce and Thor then Bruce then Thor before finally resting her quirked eyebrow on Bruce as if to ask _what’s going on?_

Bruce was about to settle on ignoring her when Steve spoke up with a voice too audible. “It’s all over, right?”

Like a switch had been flicked, the chatter teeming the dinner table nestled into a halt, and Steve’s grip on his fork tightened as he spoke.

“What we did today, this one hell of a week…” Steve continued, eyeing everyone on the table, Clint even. Everyone was aware of the quick change in the atmosphere. “Everything’s done for good, right?”

The question at the end of Steve’s sentence was wrapped in a tone too hopeful. No one dared to answer a question that may not even have an answer.

“Peace has always been temporary.” This was the first time Thor had spoken in a while, after a few hours of lingering only on the sights of human interaction happening in front of him and becoming the cornered man who just couldn’t do anything else but listen.

Steve threw him a look of all seriousness, and then the all the attention was on Thor. “So it isn’t over yet.”

Thor nodded to emphasize his point. “For now, it is. Thanos had been taken down, much to my doubt that he couldn’t be beat as we did, but he was. To foresee such danger coming in our paths, that I cannot do, but what more could we suspect?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Natasha said. It did seem unlikely that Steve had to ask a question about their fate, which also happened to be the question that none of them ever had the guts to ask, but that wasn’t the point. “The thing is, is that we don’t really  _know_  anything. We never do.”

Thor agreed. If he was one of the people given the chance to let all the things happening around him just sink in, he’d probably give a lot more time thinking on how he went from passing only through subtle paths of war to finding himself in a battle over six gems against a titan with the universe’s fate in his hands.

None of them would say with a straight face and a clean soul that they asked for this. The ache for war had felt gratifying in Thor’s hands but to be faced with what they were met this time overshadowed it all. For now at least, no one would know, though it won’t be at all too soothing for the weary lines on Thor’s head and their worry for another menace.

Bruce took a forkful of spinach and dabbed his mouth with a napkin before speaking. “I mean, if anything else happens, they should probably give us a break with those alien things, you know? Just to, just to make things a little less… cynical.”

Dinner elapsed in silence except for the chatters between Steve and Clint that went by every six minutes. Truly, Steve had a lot to talk about even with a mouthful of prawns.

Thor was washing his hands again when Clint found him. He was drained from today’s occurrence but figured it would be rude to turn down a chat with the man who offered him a place to stay.

“Your room is upstairs, by the way,” Clint told him as he led Thor into the lounge. “Second door to the right. Bruce might have to share a bed with you though.”

At the mention of Bruce, Thor was quick to turn down the offer. “I think I’d much rather stay on the couch tonight.”

“Why is it so?” Clint asked, curious.

_Because my head has turned into a mess not even I can decipher and Banner sees through me like crystal glass_ , Thor wanted to say, but he was completely sure Clint wouldn’t have had understood anything about situation itself. So he cleared his throat instead and let the lie roll out on its own. “I prefer the privacy.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie though, but Clint didn’t have to know that. He nodded instead and clapped Thor on his back before walking away.

...

Thor’s favorite thing about Loki was his covert longing for privacy.

If it weren’t obvious enough, Thor would have still been able to figure out how much his brother despised disclosed quarters. The doors on Loki’s chamber never came about without being securely locked, an apparent sign that he much preferred the comfort of privacy that closed doors gave him.

It was always a rare occasion, to say the least, when Loki would be shadowed by the many lines of bookshelves neglected inside the library, and more often than not, with a book dedicated to literature and sorcery glued to his hands, but finding him reading an advanced publication appraising the once untold history of their land was far more unusual.

The reason behind had never been something Loki felt he needed to hide from his brother. Even if he did, Thor was capable of reading through him completely (though it cost him a lot of time mastering the art of dodging his brother’s illusions), and although it could have been a subject of one of their talks, Thor still made no move to address it.

It was one of _those_  nights then, Thor soon realized, when he knocked on Loki’s door to find it locked, and green streaks of light traveled through the door’s gaps, unlocking it and allowing Thor to enter.

Loki was clad in a robe of silk, a book in his hands and eyes which were urging Thor to ask what was needed so he could disappear from his sight without delay.

“So… you could, uh, now move things without actually moving them?” Thor asked upon entering, his ever-present grin on his face.

“You’re interrupting me, Thor,” Loki responded, eyes returning to the book opened in his hands. “You have a minute to tell me what you need before I disappear from here myself.”

“There is something I brought from the hunt,” Thor said, walking to the door and locking it himself before sinking onto the armchair at the foot of Loki’s bed. He pulled out a cloth from his satchel and inside it was dagger made of no less than a rare selection of gold. “My men sought out stables and I came across this man selling blades made of what I knew to be fine class.”

Thor tossed the cloth clad dagger onto Loki’s robe and observed how Loki threw him a questioning glance before studying the gold blade. “I knew that it was your cup of tea; throwing knives I mean, so I thought I could bring it to you.”

At that, Loki let out the small laugh bubbling in his throat. “Thoughtful,” he stated, “Though I must tell you, it is very hard for me to appreciate such things when I could literally make them appear in my hands any time of the day.”

“You need not use it.” Thor shrugged, beginning to retreat from his seat. He looked over to where Loki was tucking the blade under the sheets as his book laid open on his lap. “Is the library not made for your nights of reading?”

Loki looked up from his hands and scanned Thor’s face to search for any sign of suspicion, and when he found none, he sighed. “As you can see brother, I am not very fond of people, as they are of me.”

From Thor’s understanding, his brother had always had a certain depth in relationships which not many noticed except for Thor, who found it worn on Loki’s sleeve for as long as he can remember.

It was ironic; how Loki favored praise, how he discovered the glee in stretching and pushing himself to do things beyond his limitations in return for _recognition _,__ how Loki felt himself starving for the credit and the praise and the honor when underneath the tricks he’d been pulling off for his wished achievements, was his raw ache for affection and company. It hasn’t been long since Thor managed put two and two together and came to terms that Loki only became the person he is now because of how the people around him saw him.

“How frank that mask of confidence has made you,” shaking his head, Thor commented, eyeing Loki carefully. “You always seem to be at your best in front of people who can’t even confront you without being on their on their toes.”

“I should’ve guessed you’d noticed that, one way or another,” Loki replied. “Though it is for me to blame that some of the people you speak of do not appear as _appealing_  to me at all, attitude-wise.”

Inside a room full of strangers, there were always four heads that despised Loki and his antics. Not that he was concerned, or at least pretended not to be.

How familiar it felt to see this side of his brother showing the slightest of worry over the people he’s met with every day. And Thor was again reminded why this was the Loki he favored most; private while hallowed by depth and enigma.

“That’s because they find you subdued, brother,” Thor said. “You’re not as forward and bold as you think you are.” Thor’s head was emptied with doubts as to why Loki had been treated as such, but to think that even Loki, who was exactly the kind of person to act rashly in everything they do, had his own worries stored and hidden, made Thor realize that the response for his responsibility as a brother was buried inside him. The twinkle in his eye suggested a fellow feeling. “Perhaps, even more.”

Pleased, Loki offered a subtle beam of his own, “is that so?”

The sudden rush of the biting wind was enough to pull Thor out of his thoughts. Thor was in the lounge alone, basking in the light cascading through the blinds as he waited for sleep to take over.

All of a sudden he caught noises of sole pads against wood and he turned around to search for the source of sound. 

It was Bruce.

“You turned down the offer to sleep in the same room as me,” Bruce chuckled upon entering, though it was clear that he meant only humor in his voice. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, one that was calming enough for Thor. “I mean, I’d find that rude if this situation was any different but I truly understand why you’re acting like so.”

He gave Bruce a second to settle on the couch parallel to Thor’s before he took a deep breath and glanced out to the fields. “I dread your questions.”

“I’m aware,” Bruce nodded, humming silently. “Now that it’s out in the air, do you still not want to just talk it out with me, your pal, the big guy, the closest friend you ever had in this clique? I won’t judge, not that I do, but you know—”

“Banner.” Thor said sharply, cutting him off at once. The air was cold at the same time warm that its moisture felt damp on Thor’s bruised face. He couldn’t see Bruce, thought it was better if he didn’t, but he could feel the eyes of sympathy drilling holes into his head.

Thor’s chest was throbbing. The sound was loud and clear in his head and the ringing silence in the room was of no help.

Thor’s breathing was ragged and loud. Thankfully, Bruce seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere and cleared his throat to continue speaking.

It was a question far too sensitive, and Bruce worried that it might cut wounds on Thor’s soul that were already healing to become scars.

“Do you even know where he is?” he asked anyway, and just like that, words were cutting sharply through Thor’s wounds.

Bruce ached at the sight of Thor, remembered how he looked helpless on the ship as he watched his brother struggle under the torment of the titan. To witness this man, this rightful heir to a throne having lost everything that was once his, was weight to Bruce as well.

Thor noticed that ravens were fluent in their flights. They reminded him of Odin, the palace halls, the shrubs, and the good men throwing spears in defense.

Then he was reminded of Loki.

“That perhaps is what I had been dreading all along,” Thor replied, not really an answer to the question thrown at him but enough to give meaning. He was careful not to shudder at the image of Loki in his head. “Not knowing where he is, where his body had gone.”

Bruce nodded, unfortunately not knowing what else could be said.

“Had I not been repressed underneath held chains,” Thor spoke, breathless, “my brother would have been spared that day.”

“You can’t put the blame on yourself, Thor,” Bruce warned him, noticing how Thor’s fists balled tightly on his lap.

“Did you say a word to Clint?”

“What?”

“Clint,” Thor repeated, now meeting the curiosity in Bruce’s eyes. “He knows, he spoke of it, he is aware of Loki’s death.”

Confused, Bruce asked, “I’m sorry?”

It might not have been Bruce who dropped the news.

“Natasha, does Natasha not know?”

Bruce paused to study how Thor’s face scrunched up in angles that made him look as ruined as he sounded to be, if not more. He frowned at the sight of the blond, “Thor, you might be talking about the raccoon. He wasn’t exactly too confidential about things.”

Thor didn’t say anything, he couldn’t, so he settled on controlling his breathing. For a while they were quiet, none of them daring to speak because the elephant in the room has already become the wallpaper that they _just_ couldn’t address it out loud.

Though Bruce just wasn’t able to bite his tongue any longer.

“Do you still… hope?” he asked, in a cautious tone too slow even for his liking. Bruce caught Thor closing his eyes for a brief moment before rephrasing the question. “If you’re thinking that he’s still out there, would you hold onto that?”

_Why not _,__ Thor voiced in his head. The question hit as far as home, and for a moment his chest just _ached _,__ raw and seething, and loud inside his chest like it could burst any minute. But this, he feared, struck with the reality that even he himself cannot think of a possible answer.

“I cannot say for sure.”

…

Waking up was no longer the pleasure for Thor. The first thought that came into his mind, or _sensation_ rather, was the ache around his neck and the soreness in his muscles. And Thor thought that using the couch as a bed was a great idea.

The pale morning light trickled through the blinds and onto the exposed skin of his hips. Thor had shredded himself from the leathers tight around his torso and slipped into a loose shirt and and much more comfortable pair of sweatpants.

“I take it you fancy some coffee,” Natasha said as a greeting, when Thor detached himself from the couch and strolled past the lounge to look for everyone. “Good morning, here you go.”

Natasha slid a mug across the table and waited for Thor to grab it before continuing. “You didn’t sleep in Bruce’s room.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded, recalculating his knowledge to make up another excuse. “I would have been a snoring fit, and I doubt Banner would appreciate that.”

“Makes sense.”

“So, where is everyone?” Thor wondered out loud, eyes searching across the room and finding no one else in sight. “Steve?”

“Oh, he went out jogging.”

Thor nodded, “and Banner?”

“He went out jogging as well,” Natasha sipped from the cup and barely noticed Thor’s gaze. “I know right? It’s pretty surprising. Bruce wakes up saying he had trouble sleeping last night and agrees in a second to go through laps with the captain. And you _can’t_  catch up with Cap no matter how much you try, so I’m almost sure he’s alone now.”

So Bruce wasn’t able to sleep. Thor wasn’t exactly sure if this was one of those moments when you’re supposed to be having an existential crisis with yourself because you don’t know if you should be blaming yourself for something someone did.

He chose to drop straining thoughts and focused on the sweeter tang of the coffee Natasha made. “And Clint must be jogging too?”

Natasha almost flaunted a smile at that. “He’s still asleep. Laura took the kids to school.”

Taking the cup, Thor went out to the fields. The air was very clear and the long morning shadows distinct, and for once, Thor’s mind was at peace with the world.

 

“You must see something.” Thor was beyond confused as to what Loki might have him witnessing today, and inside his head played a quick memory of the time Loki had first laid his hands on a young stallion and altered his porcelain complexion into a blend of ebony and burnt sienna. “Thor, come quick!”

The seclusion Loki led them to was not any of Thor’s assumptions. They were hidden behind a row of Calluna shrubs which were elevated enough to keep them covered from the market place nearby.

Loki had his eyes focused on a sight which could be seen through the canopy of leaves in his face, and for a moment Thor suspected that his brother was on the end of someone’s wrath and was now on the chase because of another trick he messed up.

“Loki, what is it that you had to bring me here?”

“Do you remember when you told me about the bachelor who fondled with Sif in the courtyard?” Loki asked, somehow sounding as if he was in a rush, so Thor only nodded. “Well, I think I might have found a way to get back at him and that is to pull out his hair to the very last strand. It’s brilliant!”

“ _What?_ ”

Thor really was not liking this. He’s seen Loki outdo the majority of his skills by filling the banquet hall with a herd of flocks (which definitely did not cost him a good stay in the locked chambers) but he hasn’t had Loki manipulating someone with his antics, especially with a trick he never as so far tried before.

If it were even possible, the grin on Loki's face split even wider as his eyes grew in anticipation. "I will pull his hair out so he could suffer as much embarrassment as he can."

Thor was even more disgruntled than before. "Yes, Loki, I heard you, but why the hair?"

"Look at his hair, Thor. Just _look_  at it."

Suddenly his face was being pulled towards the leaves in a manner too violent that he almost slapped Loki's hand away. And then he saw it. The good man Gardar, who had hands as lewd as a serpent. "Long, blond, and young. Court ladies said that once that man strips off the gushing confidence his hair gives him, he’s left with nothing but an embarrassing excuse for himself."

It was good, that Loki had somehow found the courtesy of defending Lady Sif from a crime far too intolerable as harassment, but the way he was handling the situation did not please Thor the slightest. It was rash and ridiculous and very much unnecessary.

"And how are you supposed to do that?"

"Sorcery," Loki said as if it was the simplest word in his vocabulary. “I shape shift into the form of Sif, approach the man and use my advantage to shred him off the hair on his head."

Thor was about to drag him by the ear from the concealing shrubs when Loki suddenly grabbed him by his chest plate. “He will never have to fondle with Sif again. Not that I care if he does, but what I am trying to say here brother mine, is that this show will be all sorts of _fun_.”

Thor decided, finally, that there was definitely something _very_ wrong inside Loki’s head. He couldn't be more certain.

Loki’s magic was… if Thor was being honest, he would have gone on and on about how sorcery had been able to showcase Loki a new level of skill and control that he’d been able to use for his advantage during precarious situations. But that wasn’t the case Thor was dealing with. More often than not, Loki’s magic was used for his own benefit; plotting foolish schemes, using magic to escape his own downfall.

Thor groaned. Defeated, he shoved Loki away from him and pointed to the targeted man. “You must hasten before anyone catches you,” he warned, and Loki like a mare fed with unending custody, scurried with a grin and rendered himself to a maiden in clasped armor.

Denial has never really been a part of Thor’s strength, so when he watched Loki transform himself into another person for the first time, he wasn’t able to help himself from being caught in awe of the way how Loki easily stripped himself from his pale complexion and suddenly appeared to be in a figure of a woman with the matching ebony hair and rising pitched voice.

Thor watched the scene in front of him unravel, noticed how Loki perfected imitating how Lady Sif would maneuver and how high her voice would go. Within a span of three minutes, the light glowing bright green from Loki’s fingertips hovered over the man’s head and one by one did the hairs on his scalp begin falling.

Etched on the man’s face was a blur between horror and disgust, and Thor willed himself from finding humor in the situation and instead tried focusing on the sight of Loki deemed powerful at his best.

Loki's feminine figure had her hair tied up to the highest of ponytails, but Thor could almost see the sweat trickling down the pale temples of his face. His eyes were drawn sharp and focused onto the pleading man, but Thor saw past this and recognized the glint of excitement in the emerald orbs that Loki owned.

Loki was in his own trance of control and manipulation, a spell chanted like a mantra in his head and the power oozing from the strength in his fingers getting the best out of him. Thor saw the sinister grin behind the tinted mouth held agape, felt the aftershock of the spell that matched Thor’s whenever he’s entrusting Mjolnir.

Thor soon found himself realizing that it was not Loki’s power that brought him to a fit of awe and pride, but Loki in his best platform himself, was what made Thor feel the similar sense of glory.

Thor was unmistakably very proud of his brother.

“Fool,” Loki told the man, surprising Thor with the sound of his own raspy voice floating out instead of Sif’s. Hairless, the man hurried way from where Loki stood.

Loki held his hands out and clasped the air around him, reviving his original form at once. With a face-splitting grin, he walked over to where Thor was hidden.

“You’ve gone mad!” Thor cried, but the unspoken  _that was impressive_  was heard loud and clear in the air.

Loki laughed like did not just shave a man’s head to his scalp. “So I’ve been told.” 

 

Bruce was not his usual self today, this Thor realized, later when Steve returned to the farmhouse with Bruce a panting mess against the door frame. 

“Thor,” Steve called out, appearing far too relaxed after repeating laps around the area. Thor was returning from the field, an empty cup in his hand and a head tender with a burden of thoughts. “Jog with me tomorrow.”

It was the first time Thor gave out a genuine smile. Something about Steve felt comforting, understanding. “I prefer not ending up like Banner.”

“Hey,” snarled Banner through his pained breathing.

Thor wanted to press his buttons. “See, just look at him trying to make it.”

Steve barked out a chuckle. Natasha glanced over her shoulder from the sink to catch a bit of the scene that was playing.

“You better get some sleep tonight then,” Steve told Banner as he passed by wringing the shirt in his hands soaked in sweat. “Otherwise I might drag you again, and Thor, if he ever changes his mind.”

Then he was gone in a quick blow.

Banner plopped on the couch, arms wrapped around his thighs as if to soothe the pain away. “Had worst time sleeping because Thor _wasn’t_ there _.”_

Suddenly the muscles in Thor’s body began straining as the words roll of Bruce’s tongue.

Thor was also smart enough to ignore the curious look in Natasha’s eye.

“So it might be a great idea,” Banner spoke lowly, eyes in Thor’s and mouth forming up words Thor did not wish to hear. “If you’d just come and use the room tonight.”

Natasha heard the entire thing, but Thor didn’t have to know that.

…

That night, Thor stole some tools from Clint and walked out onto the field alone with nothing but a handful of red Elm barks in his hand, a lighter and Stormbreaker in the other.

The night came whispering sweet nothings to Thor, luring heat from tired muscles as he began to set up the fire with stacked barks and a lighter. He was then reminded of Frigga’s funeral by the Asgardian waters.

Thor’s head was still in a string of uncoordinated thoughts he wasn’t at all prepared to deal with. None of the voices inside his head wished to stop the memories he was haunted with, but one thought in particular forced him to embrace even just a diminutive amount of reality.

The reality that Loki, his brother, had not been given a proper funeral. But his body was no longer present for the funeral to begin with.

Thor held Stormbreaker with a leveled force of weight in his hand. The fire was growing, but still inadequate. Thor pulled out more from the barks and used the axe to break them down into smaller units.

The biting wind caressed Thor’s skin until pale was replaced by blue, but as the fire grew even bigger, the heat stole the blue and tinted his skin in blushes of pink.

Loki’s death hadn’t been apparent to Thor until later when he was forced to choke on the reality being shoved down his throat.

It wasn’t on the Guardians’ ship, no, neither were the fields of Wakanda and the throngs of people stepping foot over foot to get Thanos falling onto his knees for mercy.

It wasn’t on the jet to Clint’s house. It wasn’t the image of Laura and their children and Steve throwing himself to a fit of laughter with Clint for the sake of catching up.

It wasn’t during the night he had to spend with Banner. It wasn’t when he first spoke of his brother as if his existence was a secret that Thor no longer wanted to be kept hidden.

It downed on Thor that he still really hasn’t accepted the reality that the last bit of his family was no longer there to lift his spirits up and make him hope for a better tomorrow to soothe the painful present.

“Forgive me, brother,” Thor spoke, in a hushed tone too calm for his liking, waiting a second or two before speaking again for he cannot reestablish the thought that he was finally speaking to Loki after everything that has happened. For a moment he wished not to continue, but the flame raging inside his stomach made him let out the words piercing his guts and allowed the dam to collapse into its ruin, and all at once, Thor let go. “For everything that has happened.”

Thor was careful enough in choosing his words, having said an apology for everything that has happened, and not the things which were done. Thor bluntly apologized only for the ruin that has met Loki.

“That’s not going to work.”

Thor spun around to the person speaking. He was met by the sight of Natasha in a night robe.

Natasha welcomed herself into Thor’s space and approached him in a nearer distance. Thor was still using Stormbreaker to break pieces of bark and although it was unusual for Thor to be doing this, Natasha chose not to point that out.

“Did you hear?” Thor had to ask. He glanced up quickly to study her face while continuing his business with the bark.

Natasha shook her head and frowned at the sight of Thor’s busied hands. “I just arrived.”

“Good.” Dropping his hammer, Thor took a couple deep breaths. He turned around to face Natasha fully before asking again, “why are you here?”

“It was cold.”

_Incredulous _,__ Thor thought mindlessly. “Then you are better to be inside.”

“I am envious of your flame.” The way Natasha said it pulled strings inside Thor in places he could not even reach, somewhere deeper and much more vulnerable against ears awaiting the chance to listen, to _understand_. Natasha cannot be one of them.

Then the hairs on Thor’s skin stand at the wind pushing past their warmed bodies. The glint Natasha had on her eye was something Thor could not lay a finger on. It was screaming of curiosity, desperation, and somehow guilt.

Natasha’s eyes never left Thor’s. It was as if she was reading him like an open book, and for a moment his vision had gone white, and the orbs flashing green were back in his mind and the sinister voice of his brother began a lullaby once again before Natasha spoke to him. “What are you doing, Thor?”

She was not seeking the literal aspect of her questions. Her mind was lost as to what Thor was going through that she had to use her words to be able to get to cut the biggest wound in his soul fresh and open.

“Clint asked of me to put up this flame.”

“No, he didn’t.” She dismissed. The lies slipping off his tongue were fresh. Natasha took a few cautious steps forward before her eyebrows furrowed at her own words. “Though I do remember Clint asking you the slightest of favors to at least check your bed upstairs and see if you’d fancy the linen he has.”

Thor barked out a chuckle at that, one that did not lace humor but instead bitterness. “You knew, didn’t you?”

He refused to look at her and instead waited for her reply, not knowing that she had no intention to answer the question that obviously threw her off-guard.

Natasha was unspeaking, and the look Thor gave her was enough for her to understand that Thor needed a definite answer. So she nodded. “Yes.”

Natasha knew. This was far much worse than talking to Bruce about what he had seen on the ship because _this _…__ Natasha was to be oblivious over everything but now all of the facts he wished to keep to himself were slipping from his fingers like surging water.

Thor’s voice was not shaking, but every muscle inside his body was ready to give up though he tried to stop it from happening. “And you let Clint know of it?”

Silence was the wave that washed over Natasha. Her mouth was pressed to a thin line and her eyes screamed of everything but pride.

“Yes.” Again.

Loki appeared when Thor closed his eyes, again. Loki while being lost in his own world with nothing but the power of deceit in his hands and books to give him knowledge of the universe that was yet to be known, he seemed at peace.

“Why?” was the only word Thor had managed to say. He was so close to screaming, anger in his pulse and strong as ever, but he couldn’t let it out.

Not yet.

It occurred to Natasha that Thor was just seconds away from losing it. His fists were balled and the rage in his eyes almost burnt the guilt in hers.

“Because no one wanted you to go through much more once people fail to recognize the burden you’re carrying.”

So they knew, all of them. All of them looking over Thor and taking his grief into consideration and _still_  refuse to speak about it. No wonder Thor felt like he had been this blind item that no one had chosen to talk about. His grief became the elephant in the room, his silence the loudest sound echoing through the house.

And still no one spoke of it, only feigned their innocence and tip-toed around the problem.

Those were the words that tipped Thor over the edge.

“Do you fail to see how much I could see past the shows you’re putting up?” asked Thor, the twitching in his gut becoming more uncontrolled as he eyed Natasha and spoke underneath the weight of his fury. “You do not have to put up a show in front of me because I cannot bear the thought of any of you _knowing _!__ ”

“Thor, stop.”

He shut his eyes closed and saw Loki with the Tesseract in his hands, the pained look on his face growing alight as the one by one his powers shut down and the only remaining strength of him left was the blood flowing and the nerves in his spine, and the heart that ached for his brother’s threatened life.

“It is not sympathy I ask of you,” Thor breathed out, regaining the energy to control his speech and his anger and the ache in his chest. Natasha looked very much taken aback, as the expression on her face gave it out. “It is the _understanding _,__ that I have not had the time to mourn for what I have lost, let alone accept what I have truly lost.”

Thor did not close his eyes this time, for the fear that the images will return, but they still do, out there on the open, waiting for Thor to see. Loki and his neck snapped, not breathing, and very much lifeless.

No tears well up at the brink of his eye. His voice did not quiver but instead remained composed. His chest ached for release but he could not give it to himself.

Not yet.

“Thor, I’m sorry.” Natasha’s words were merely a breath compared to Loki’s struggling voice as he died. _Thor, I’m sorry_ , he repeated over and over with the look of his brother’s face still in his head, and wondered if those words would do any difference.

He wished they would.

…

A full month after Loki’s passing the mourning had still not run its course. Or so Thor thought.

The things he used to find himself fascinated with were only scraps of overdue memory. They caused the deepening of the wounds in his mind and his soul and Thor had already given up on trying to stop it.

The events that followed the scene with Natasha on Clint’s field were already controlled. That night, he went with Natasha as she led him to the room Clint promised him and ran his hand across the sheets on the bed. Silk, but softer than the one that was used to cover his bed back in Asgard, and Thor hated it, hated that it felt more like the sheets in Loki’s chambers than his own.

Both Natasha and Bruce, Clint included, spoke none of the exchanges they had with Thor as requested. Instead they tried to keep up with his pace, dragging him along conversations that actually picked up his interest rather than making him lose it.

Natasha took her time to guide Thor through the proper way of washing dishes. It surprised her even that Thor wanted to involve himself in housework but after a long time of thinking about it, she realized that it wasn’t really surprising at all.

After a brief observation of his skills in washing silverware, Thor decided that he was getting the hang of it. He was also able to share episodes of wordplay whenever Clint was doing his business on the stove while Thor finished drying the soaked saucers on the rack.

Everyone knew why, Steve included, why Thor had been talking more than settling for silence and acting out more than locking himself in his room throughout the whole day. Natasha was then reminded of the day Thor went with Steve on a jog and Steve returning to the house with a twisted look on his face.

Thor had not returned that morning.

The numbness of his loss had passed, and Thor was beginning to lose himself entirely to the crash of reality upon him. He was itching to scream, to use Stormbreaker of help to control the anger from bringing out the worst in him when he loses all control of himself, but he thought, _not yet_.

Thor threw Stormbreaker into the air, hoisting himself up as they flew off the pavements. He searched for a tight area, one that’s secured enough that no one would recognize him, and hidden enough that Steve wouldn’t be able to track him.

His whole body hung limp like each limb weighed twice as much as it had before and just moving it about was a slow, painful effort. So he sat across the grass and waited for the night to crawl in.

When Thor returned that night, six heads turned around instead of four, and two of them were more taken aback than troubled.

Tony stood up from where he was seated, holding up his hand as an acknowledgement all the while Peter who was sitting next to him had his eyes blinking at the sight of the familiar man on the doorstep. “Never thought I’d be alarmed when Bruce said you were gone.”

At that, Thor grinned in response, but made no move towards the pair. “It’s great seeing you again, Stark. And your friend?”

“Hi, my name’s Peter,” the kid beamed with an obvious hint of excitement in his voice. “I was with Mr. Stark on the ship that flew us out of here and _wow_ , never have I imagined that it’d feel so cool to talk to Mr. Thor.”

“Mr. Thor,” laughed Steve, ignoring Thor’s apparent absence from the past few hours. “ _Ridiculous_. Thor, you plan on joining us? We were just about to have steak.”

It was easy to shake his head in response and decline the offer. “Perhaps next time,” he shrugged, and then he was gone.

The best thing about Thor’s bed was definitely its size. Thor rubbed his fingers along the silken mattress, pressed his cheek to the cool, velvet pillows. His skin ached for the warmth of the thick comforter, and laying his body on the left side of the bed, he breathed.

Slow, like he was listening to the echoes his voice made against the corners in the room. The laughter heard from outside gradually faded into the loud scream of Thor’s running thoughts.

 

He had lost his eye from his own sister by pulling it out. Sometimes Thor has to repeat that sentence over and over again because he still cannot tire from finding the situation itself _absurd_.

Korg offered him an piece of leather which seemed to have been an eye-patch. Inside his room, Thor’s thoughts ran wildly, holding a pace similar to the drumming og his heart inside his chest. Asgard was destroyed by Hela, which was very unfortunate, but that also meant that he had finally put a stop to the prophecy of their end.

Studying his reflection on the mirror, his fingers traced along the edges of the leather of his eye-patch, freezing in their place when Thor noticed Loki appearing behind his back.

Thor turned around, staring at Loki as he prepared himself to see him vanishing again. Loki never took his eyes off the eye-patch. “It suits you.”

Thor placed the glass in his hands on the nightstand next to him. He exchanged a few more words with Loki’s hologram because _why not?_ Nobody was really even talking to him at all in the first place.

“Thank you,” Thor had said, tossing the silver bottle cap into the air before throwing it to Loki’s direction. “If you were here, I might even give you a hug."

Loki had caught it by reflex, and Thor felt a certain kind of warmth rise inside his chest. “I’m here.”

It felt as if a tether was pulling him towards Loki. His legs pulled up a slow pace and within two seconds Thor was already standing a few inches from him, one of his hands reaching to the back of Loki’s neck and his eyes searching Loki’s face for _something_.

“Brother,” Loki whispered, his tone soft but definitely sounding of laughter. “You promised.”

Thor pulled away, his face painted an abstract of confusion and relief. His eyes scanned Loki and his hands and the nonexistent bruises on his face and the audible breathing patterns he was making and—

“How?” Thor had asked. Loki wouldn’t have had enough time to escape Surtur’s trance before the explosion.

“You need not know.” Then there was something hidden in Loki’s smile if Thor ever took that as a hint. “I’m here now.”

 

Bringing back that particular memory, Thor realized he never really as much pulled Loki into his arms as he promised. He had always been fond of showing his affection as a brother, but they were never really anything but painful slaps on Loki’s shoulder blades and unexpected punches whenever his brother began annoying the hell out of him.

Thor rolled over to his side, the empty space on the right side of the bed a painful sight to him. During the years of their youth, Thor would go to Loki’s chambers to share the bed. They faced the paintings on the ceilings, listened to the wind roaring outside the windows as they remained unspeaking, Thor taking the left side of the bed, one that was closest to the door, and Loki lying on the right.

It went on for a long expanse of time until Loki—and Thor even if he wouldn’t deny it this time—happened to grow up from his younger self and out from the old hobbies he used to share with his brother.

Loki grew out of the fantasy that he and Thor were born of a connection that was unbreakable, even for himself as an adopted child. He discovered what a world he had yet to see, and relied on the comfort of independence as he started different ways of his own.

Thor heard the faint noise of footsteps past the walls of his room, breaking him from the chaos of his reminiscence.

“Brother,” Thor murmured, more like a whisper as he did not wish to hear the despair laced on his own voice.

His hands were running along the silk, the sheets on his bed a mess with the tight clutch of his fingers. A long exasperated sigh escaped his lips when he had least expected it, and the hairs on his arms were made alive. Thor was very _desperate_ now.

Mourning was supposed to be dignified and stoic in his family, but Thor felt that he might break from that any time now.

His hands stilled on the sheets, still grasping tight as if a figure had long disappeared from the now empty space. Thor breathed, and breathed, and _breathed _.__

Slow, painfully.

…

Like the old saying went, memories are made when gathered around the table.

Steve has never barked out a roar of a laugh than he has ever did with Tony. Tony, the companion he treated like an arch-nemesis but also fully respecting him as he was still one of the you-can-lean-on-my-shoulder type of friends, had visited the farmhouse with Peter to see just how things were going.

Unfortunately, there was no good news to tell. When Clint welcomed the pair inside, Steve and Natasha were going through what seemed to be a pressing conversation about Thor and where he had gone, to which of course Tony’s initial reflex was “where _is_  Thor?”

Natasha suspected that Thor had told Steve about the same things he told to her during the night on the fields, which Steve confirmed himself later that day when Tony and Peter were far from hearing range.

Thor had been gone for thirteen hours. Natasha was beginning to display a show of worry which Bruce had noticed but it was Steve who convinced her that she’d rather not go out looking for Thor, assuming that he might just appreciate the distance for once.

Natasha managed to agree with this.

So when Thor declined to offer to join the dinner with the two guests, Natasha was quick to reassure Tony that Thor wasn’t really unwilling to catch things up with him, but was only in serious need of a time off.

“He’s totally larger in person,” Peter had said from Tony’s side. Ever since he had seen the sight of the thunder god in ripped jeans leaning heavily on the doorstep, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. “It’s a bummer he’s not here.”

“Why not give him a visit?” Tony suggested, looking down at the clearly disappointed teen. Natasha wasn’t entirely agreeing with this but she pretended not to hear any of it for the sake of the kid. “Exchange your introductions, share a portion of the crazy life updates you’ve been burdening me with, I don’t know.”

Natasha caught Steve staring intently at her from the corner of her eye.

Peter hadn’t wasted a second before he was running up the flight of stairs in full high.

“Great kid,” Tony shook his head in fond. Steve found himself agreeing with that. “Can be very bothersome sometimes, but he’s one of a kind.”

Peter wasn’t really sure if he was even on the right direction to Thor’s room, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

He saw a door from the left of the stairs, one that wasn’t closed but opened enough to reveal a gap which Peter was able to peak through. Peter brought himself closer to the door, eyes ever so curious, and found Thor on the bed as he had expected.

At the moment, he regretted ever thinking that barging into the room was the best idea he ever had, because Thor was… Peter couldn’t really understand the _sight_ he was seeing.

Thor was lying on the left side on the bed and rolled over to his side so he wasn’t facing the door, hands running across the sheets in patterns Peter could not read. The duvet was made a mess between Thor’s twitching fingers and the sound that amplified it all was Thor’s ragged breathing. Peter could even put his money on the table and say that he heard the slightest bit of a _sob_  from Thor.

But no, he wasn’t crying.

Peter immediately withdrew himself from the door. He felt like he had intruded into this unspoken moment that clearly wasn’t supposed to be exposed, like he had seen something he definitely shouldn’t have seen, and Peter almost decided against confirming that with Thor himself.

When found Tony alone for once, he was already slapping a hand against Steve’s shoulder as a sign of farewell. It was good that they were acknowledging the possibility that they may not see each other for a while. “Mr. Stark?”

“Hey.” Tony detached himself from Steve as he approached Peter. “You talked to Thor?”

“Not exactly,” Peter shook his head, and when Tony was about to ask why, he was quick enough to cut him off. “Mr. Stark, I think he was crying.”

“Crying? 

“Unless you consider sniffling as crying.” Peter responded. “I don’t know, he was on this one side of the bed and he was caressing the sheets in a way that’s—

“Are you sure you weren’t just hallucinating?” Tony had to ask. What’s going on with Thor? Peter shook his head, his curious eyes already giving out the answer. “That’s odd. He’s a tough guy. I wonder what’s happening.”

Suddenly Tony was returning to the kitchen where Natasha and Bruce were beginning to throw the used dishes into the washer. Clint had dismissed himself as well, seeing as how he was already rounding the corner of the room to enter his kids’ chambers.

“Banner.” Tony called out, pulling Bruce out of his trance. Bruce only glanced up at him in question but said nothing. “Parker is concerned about Thor, I mean what _is_  happening?”

Natasha’s hands stilled on the glass in her hand. Bruce blinked once, twice, before tossing the question out. “Uh, why is it me that you’re asking?”

“Maybe it's because you're apparently the exact same person who had last seen him on the ship?”

Steve, who heard part of the conversation going on, appeared from a corner to watch the exchange happen before his eyes. Apparently, he didn’t go unnoticed and was later addressed by Tony. “You know something I don’t, Rogers?”

Natasha’s eyes were trained on him. Steve wasn’t able to see it, but he felt it from afar. He ignored the question.

Tony was in full inquisitiveness. He could almost smell the tension oozing in the room.

Clint eventually heard the voices from the kitchen. He was the only person left who hadn’t been able to share a fair talk with Thor about what had happened, and seeing as he most likely wouldn’t be approached by Thor again to discuss the same matter, he gave into the urge to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Alright, he was gone for what, a whole day?” Tony insisted, staring at all three faces as if he was expecting anyone to answer. “What _is_  it that we feel like we’re terribly missing something here?”

“Or someone,” added Natasha. Both Bruce and Steve threw subtle dirty looks to her direction.

It really wasn’t their story to tell, Natasha realized this far too late then; she had already broken the thin layer of ice of Thor’s loss that they were stepping on, and she knew things would unlikely turn out well once Thor hears of this.

Tony’s hands were waving in the air for more emphasis. “Someone like… like the _raccoon_?”

“No,” Steve spoke up. By all accounts, it seemed as if he was sharing the same thoughts with Natasha. Tony was looking at him, urging at him to continue. Steve sighed, letting everything go. “It’s Loki.”

“Loki,” Tony repeated.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, frowning upon the reality of it all now that he’s said it. “He’s gone.”

Peter stirred in interest. “Wasn’t he the bad guy you had to fight in New York?”

“Exactly, kid,” Tony nodded, still processing what he was hearing, but also not entirely knowing whether he should feel relieved or sympathetic. “He had the uh, big-ass golden horns on his head and stuff.”

Bruce placed the plates on the table and took a seat on one of the bar stools. He really wasn’t supposed to speak of any of this.

“He wasn’t entirely a bad guy, though.” Bruce stated, his opinion from the perspective he saw surprising everyone. “He did terrible things but he wasn’t too terrible of a person.”

It became very deafening, the silence at least. Bruce suddenly felt the gravity of their curiosity and was left with no other choice but to continue.

“You were the only witness in that ship,” Tony said, because it wasn’t phrased as the question Bruce didn’t wish to answer. “You saw it happen.”

“Not exactly,” Bruce shook his head at the second accusation, glancing at them all briefly before speaking again. “Loki was left to bargain for Thor’s life using the Tesseract. He had to, because there was no other way. Just before Thanos took it from him, I… I lunged at him to buy Loki some time, but it was too much.”

Steve was hearing the first of this. None of them noticed that Clint had already been standing behind their shadows as he too was listening. “And Thor?”

“He was held down by the Black Order,” Bruce answered. “Loki rushed to him when I had Thanos with me, and at that point it was as if the Tesseract no longer mattered. Suddenly I was being pulled out by some sort of indestructible mass of energy which ended up bringing me here, and the last thing I saw was Loki on Thor’s side. He couldn’t do anything to release Thor because the Black Order was there.”

Words had left them all. Bruce looked up and met all pairs of eyes.

“Christ,” Tony said, exasperated. “That seems tragic, how is he holding up again?”

“Barely,” Bruce answered. “At least for me, ‘cause you can’t really see it from the outside. It’s hard to read him, but once you do, you see it all.”

Natasha agreed. “He wanted none of us to speak of it. He does things that distracts his head every now and then but you can see that he’s just putting up a show of his own.”

Tony had to wrap his mind around the words being said. “And he disappeared today because?”

“He told me,” Steve continued. “I knew there was something going on, so I asked him. He left out the details of course, but he told me, and ended up leaving me on the track as well.”

The three of them answered the unanswered questions they had always wanted to ask, but never had the courage to do so. Thor was an epitome of strength himself; hard to outmatch, but once you do, it’s unending, though there will always be defeat.

Peter and Tony left the farmhouse with the burden of sympathy. Was it really sympathy they were feeling? Tony didn’t know, and decided to no longer dwell on it.

They all had their losses; loss to their own battle, their own problems, their anxiety, but it was Thor who had lost the most. It always had been.

…

It wasn’t that Thor didn’t know how to cook, it’s just. He was ridiculously _terrible_  at it.

“Why do I feel like you just put poison in my food?” It wasn’t much of a greeting when Loki had said this, but that will do.

Loki still hadn’t moved from his seat against the wall in the cell when Thor returned to him with a platter of a meal he had prepared by himself. He only did so because he would rather not have Odin hearing from the servants of his son’s whereabouts with his brother who was currently a criminal locked in the dungeons.

Thor placed the ceramic outside the glass, and Loki worked his hands up with a voiceless spell to move it into his cell. “Must you think I’d even cook for you?”

“Oh, do you _ever_  learn?” Loki laughed, a breathy sound against the silent hallow corners. “Smelling your lies has become my key perception.”

Thor responded with a chuckle to his own amusement. Had he known Loki would still inevitably read through him like he was clear glass, he wouldn’t have bothered steaming beans for him.

“I find it inappropriate for you to ask such a question, brother.” Thor told him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Out of the two of us, which one can actually feign poisonous mushrooms into looking like a string of benign herbs?”

A grin flashed brightly across Loki’s lips, one of his hands reaching for the beans in the ceramic and bringing it to his mouth. “It’s nice to know sometime that you no longer underestimate my capabilities.”

Thor could recall the silent ‘thank you’ Loki managed to say to him as he left Loki’s cell that day. Neither of them was supposed to act anything beyond expected and and Thor himself knew that he had to keep an extra eye on his brother and the things he might do.

If Thor was going to release him from his cell (he obviously wouldn’t had done so if he knew Loki wasn’t the _last_  person he could ask help from to escape Asgard), the least Loki could do was not carry on with his misbehavior. And eat, at least.

The morning after Tony and Peter had visited, Thor was met by a ring of silence echoing against the walls. He searched every hallway for a shadow or some sort, and when he ended up finding none, he walked straight into the kitchen.

On the table were only empty plates stacked on top of each other, and much to Thor’s dismay, there wasn’t any food prepared.

Natasha obviously had gotten tired with being the one who has to cook all the time.

So he rummaged through the wooden cabinets to search exactly for the supplies he needed to start cooking. Thor of course didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but when he found what seemed like a porcelain bowl, and a wooden spoon that’s pretty much too long for his liking, he felt a sudden push of encouragement from somewhere he can’t place, and decided to just go on with it.

Suddenly he didn’t know what he was going to do again because all of Clint’s herbs were gone and the only food remaining inside the fridge were meat slices of all sorts.

What was he supposed to do with a piece of flank, a bowl, and a wooden spoon?

Thor hated himself for it, but his head just couldn’t help but lose itself into his wild imagination. He wondered what Loki might say to him if he was here to witness Thor looking like an absolute knucklehead in the middle of the kitchen.

A part of him envisioned Loki doing an eye-roll and waving his hands in a haste movement before a well-detailed cookbook appeared on the counter. He wouldn’t really be able to make food appear in an instant; they would only be illusions, and it just wouldn’t be possible.

Thor mentally slapped himself for ever picturing Loki throwing insults at him.

_“My, brother, is this how you present yourself? A paragon of excellence, rigid and ever so worthy? Oh, how embarrassing.”_

_“It’s insane how much more foolish you could be. I thought your reliance on people was the last of it, but no, there’s just so much more strings to pull.”_

It felt like it was real, or at least Thor thought it was. The bowl in his hand was cold but Thor’s fingers were burning and he just couldn't place why.

The look on Loki’s face as he stared at him one last time was an image Thor had been trying to remove from his head. In those eyes were fear, definitely fear, but it wasn’t the fear of death and the blackness and the unmoving reality Loki was about be met with.

It was the fear of separation. Estrangement, loss, perhaps even abandonment. Thor no longer wanted to recall the pain he once witnessed as he watched Thanos take his brother by his neck, but it was still scored in the back of his head where his memories were supposed to kept hidden.

As much as he hated Loki being a memory, Thor had to accept that he already was.

But Thor wasn’t finding an easy way out of this _mourning_ fit or whatever people call it. He was exhausted and pained from the past few days because every night he’d see Loki in his head saying empty promises as he always did, and if it weren’t enough, he’d see him on the edge of the mattress, waiting for Thor to take his hand, which Thor very much hated because he knows that when he does, his hand will only pass through it like an aching gush of familiar air.

Loki was nowhere close to being forgotten, that Thor could guarantee, but it doesn't mean that he was anywhere close to actually accepting it.

His brother was the only piece of hope he had left, and when Loki ended up failing Thor his promises of ruling by his side, Thor knew he had to look for the smallest sign of hope he could somehow hold on to.

Without Loki, Thor’s soul remained at unease. Nothing has ever made him feel worthy ever since the last proof of his worth as a person was taken away from him.

Every day was just a routine of waiting for the sun to fall hidden, and the night to banish him from this painful truth.

Nothing had ever been the same.

Thor approached the kitchen counter, hands threatening to drop the bowl on the floor if he wasn’t going to do anything to control the trembles that broke through his body. 

The pleasant wind from the windows held ajar was like a music of old memories to him. He touched the bowl, tracing sculpted patterns that reminded him too much of the ceramic he had used when preparing a meal for Loki back when he was still stuck inside the cell.

Thor’s mind was drifting back to Loki again. Would it occur to him that Loki might actually be watching over him right now?

The thought sent shivers to Thor’s spine. Thor had always considered Loki a maestro in mind-reading, detecting unspoken lies at least, but that didn’t make Thor less impressed. What he cannot say for sure, was the answer to the question whether Loki would still be able to read through the thoughts in his head that even Thor himself could not fathom.

Would Loki be able to at least read past the mask Thor was holding up? That he has never been and never will be all right with Loki’s passing, and that he still longed for him at night? That there had never been a time when Thor never prayed to hear his voice, or encounter his ill—

“...brother.”

Thor was already turning around before he could collect the remnants of his sane thoughts, but soon regretting every decision he’s ever made when he realized that his vulnerability was simply the greatest battle he can never secure victory in. His head was overwhelmed with thoughts of Loki and Loki alone, and before he could stop himself, his lips already gone speaking of the person whose name Thor never as so much mentioned since he had passed away. “Loki?”

“Thor.”

When it hit Thor enough to shake him from head space, he was immediately taken aback from the sight of Steve staring at him like he had been screaming for hours, and Peter by his side, who remained unmoving. 

_Fool,_  Thor screamed at himself, voiceless, doing it inside his mind instead because he knew very well that his voice would barely even make a sound. _You are a fool, you always had been._

“Thor,” Steve spoke, cautious, like he was stepping on shredded glass barefooted, and Thor _hated_  it. He turned away from the pair, careful not to meet their eyes, but Steve was very insistent. “Thor, it’s us.” 

_Fool. Fool. You fool._

Pity. It tinted Steve’s eyes bright and clear and Thor didn’t even have to look at him to know that it was the brightest sight and loudest sound in the room.

Tears were welling up at the brink of his eyes. No, not yet. He tried screaming, but it only came as a whisper. Thor was already mustering up the courage to keep himself composed as he settled his weight on the counter because he was _not_  going to break down.

Not yet.

Especially not in front of the people whom he least wanted to see.

But it was hard. Thor was really trying. Suddenly there was the sound of a forceful shattering. Thor looked down at his hands and realized he had actually dropped the bowl to the floor. That didn’t matter now. He studied his hands and noticed that they were shaking, terribly, uncontrolled. Thor has began falling apart and he was so far from stopping.

“Look at me, Thor,” Steve was trying as well. He needed to be heard because Thor was barely even listening to himself. “It’s all right, just—”

Peter ran up to Thor, throwing his arms around the figure hunching against the counter, in a way that wasn’t hesitant, too unflinching, in a graceful moment that almost convinced Steve that Peter had wanted to do it as much as he was willing to.

Thor accepted the contact, gave into the offered arms. Unfamiliar, but soothing. No one has ever held him like this before, right when the one person whom Thor only wanted to do this to, was taken away from him. Peter tightened his arms, empathized, and just like that, Thor fell apart.

Stripped, down to the last flake of soul. Peter felt the wetness down his sweater, but he said not a word, and only held Thor tighter.

Steve was watching, paying attention to how Thor’s chest heaved in sudden beats, like it was quite painful of an action, unbearable even, and right there, standing in the spot between the counter and the hallway, he began to _ache._

This was it, Thor echoed inside his head. This was the moment he falls apart, rips his mask off, drops his guards down. His brother’s death was a bullet in his heart that he cannot bear pulling out. It was painful, and too much at the same time.

Thor wished he had the power that Loki did. He had always wished for it, but he had become far too proud of a being. Now, he longed for nothing more than the chance to set himself off to the place where Loki might be, where he might be watching Thor in his weakening, his defeat. Thor wished only to hear those words for the last time. Just one last time.

_I’m here._

__…_ _

Lonely was once an abstract idea, an affliction of the old. Thor had Loki, and Loki, well… he didn’t exactly have Thor but he was all he had left. So it had to be.

Thor was finally beginning to trust in his brother again, and he felt as if the possibility of fully trusting him again was giving him a rush of both thrill and fear, more than he had bargained for.

Thor was supposed to be king. He already had been declared king, but he wished to be one which had Loki by his side throughout his rule, throughout their growth, throughout everything. Like Loki was destined to.

But fate saw fit to take him by the neck, beneath the helpless screams in Thor’s eyes where he could be seen with a perfect view as he died. Loki’s death was the  _torture_  that haunted Thor in his sleep, in his wake, and even on the days when he wished was no longer left breathing at all.

It took so long to arrive at acceptance, to be able to remember familiar faces in his sleep but awaken with nothing but the ghost of his dreams fading into vague memories.

It wasn’t really much of a destination though. It was an empty train station, no people, no trains, nowhere to go. It was being able to hear and see but none of it mattering. It was the world carrying on with business as usual, but for Thor it would never be the same again.

After the incident in the kitchen, Thor dismissed himself with a withdrawn nod to the pair. His face was red and hot and Thor felt like he could die from the embarrassment, wished that the ground would just swallow him whole.

Peter let him go when Thor began regaining his composure, pushing past Steve, who had given him a clap on the back.

Steve no longer spoke about it, thought that there would never be a chance Thor would want him to bring it up. In fact, Thor never even said anything.

That was how Thor rolled. Upon accepting that he had been seen vulnerable before Steve, he happened to arrive to a conclusion that things were done for good. No more bottled-up feelings, no more held back screams. If Thor had wanted to force his rage out, he would’ve done so, but he didn’t.

He settled on running instead, going through laps alone, sometimes with Steve if Thor allowed himself to tag along. He paid more attention to Natasha’s cooking after noticing how worn-out she looked whenever she got up from bed in the crack of the morning to prepare a meal for Laura and kids. It was the least she could do for them.

It was the least Thor could do for himself.

He and Banner talked more. Fortunately for Thor their talks were usually about matters that seemed to be interesting enough for him, and as much Thor hated to admit, it was helping him. The talks were helping him. Bruce was helping him, stuck through dirt and dust with him, took his time listening to him.

And Thor appreciated everything very much.

Things were working out quite well, for now. Would the next couple of months work for him as well, Thor didn’t know. He was no longer certain about anything, he felt like he never did. But surprisingly he made no complaints about it; the uncertainty, the numbness, the lack of reason.

Thor thought that things wouldn’t happen if they weren’t supposed to happen. He believed in that after witnessing his life crumble to pieces and watching it rebuild itself into something different, but much more. What more was there, Thor didn’t know, but he no longer chose to dwell on it.

Thor was already in the process of rebuilding himself. But there would be a time when he would have to crumble again, and Thor knew that. It was inevitable. He just didn’t expect that time to come sooner.

Seven months passed by quickly, too quickly, like the ground was spinning but unstopping, and for a while it made Thor wish that things weren’t moving at all, that he could wield the time stone and just put everything into a halt _ _.__

It had been too long—seven months exactly—before they had found _him_.

Unguarded, left alone in a mass of questions, but found, luckily. Bruce was the first one to be approached by Okoye under streams of consecutive questioning, and from that day, nothing seemed to have been the same. She explained to Bruce how and when, and left a subtle reminder of the unspoken question which Bruce heard completely.

Loki. He was alive, but even better, he was _found_. In Wakanda, where people didn’t know who he was, couldn’t remember who he had been, didn’t understand how he managed to stay alive.

But was he coming home?

Bruce couldn’t tell Thor. Not yet. It just didn’t feel right, at least for now. So he called in Natasha, showed her every detail Okoye gave out, and waited in anticipation, studied the sudden change of emotions on Natasha’s face; surprise, hope, then worry.

“Should we tell him?”

Bruce had been expecting it before he even asked. Natasha always seemed to be able to read his mind. “Not yet.”

Much to their relief, Thor had been very occupied these past few days. When he was gone, again, during one of his runs in the morning, they pulled Steve into a room before he could go running himself. They broke the news to him. Steve’s face fell like he was in a dispute of concern and rejection.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered, before any of them could ask. No argument could be started, Steve was already shaking his head.

So they waited for another day, and when Thor once again disappeared, they brought in Tony and Clint to the room.

“That’s bull,” Tony said, dropping to the couch because apparently, the sudden news was just too much to carry.

“The guy’s unpredictable,” Clint shrugged, staring at everyone in the room. “But you can call it a miracle this time.”

They talked about everything for what seemed like hours. Bruce called Okoye, put her image up a screen visible for everyone to see, and when she appeared, the question was already out in the air.

“Does he want to come to Thor?”

For a while, Okoye remained unspeaking. Natasha was set off by the alarming silence, felt that there was something Okoye wasn't telling them. But then Okoye’s eyes flashed a quick look to somewhere Natasha cannot place, somewhere on Okoye’s right, and then she was back, some of them expecting her to nod but surprising themselves with the shrug she gave instead.

“Neither party is willing. At least for him.”

_Of course_ , Loki didn’t want to see Thor. Bruce has to repeat that sentence over and over again because it just wasn’t making any sense. Why would he not want to see Thor? 

After their discussion, Bruce was able to point out several things. They were all worried about Thor, but Loki’s survival didn’t comfort them as much and they wanted to know _why _.__  When asked if they’d allow Loki to see Thor, Tony hesitated. Steve was completely against it. Though Bruce and Clint were down, Natasha was still insistent.

Steve stood by his word. “Now just isn’t the time, and all of you know that.”

Yes, it was true, what Steve had said. Thor was still in the process of putting himself back into his shape, and Loki was unwilling to see him anyway. Bruce obviously knew that. Bruce obviously knew _better_  than that.

“Send him here,” Bruce was already speaking before he could even stop himself, and Natasha looked at him as if he just taught her how to breathe again.

Thor deserved to see Loki, that much he knew. But it could hurt him in all possible ways as well. Bruce didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, but if this was something he could do to bring Thor out of the shadow of his grief, he knew he had to try.

When Loki appeared the next day, he did not search for Thor. His mouth was sealed shut as if the words he was keeping to himself were spells that could potentially threaten the whole room. His fingers fidgeted every second, and Bruce could notice the careful flicker of light that was made by the action.

Bruce didn’t know what was going in his head. Sure, he has thought of him as crazy before but now was a completely different story. Loki’s eyes were blank, they held little to no emotion, and Bruce was growing more concerned every second.

“Loki,” Bruce had called, trying to get his attention, trying to make him ask them back _where is my brother_ only to fail completely. Loki did not flinch, had only kept his eyes glued to his fingers as they continue glowing bright green. Bruce cast a careful glance at Steve before continuing. “Loki, we’re Thor’s companions.”

That seemed to work. In a watchful manner, he looked up from his fingers and bored his eyes onto Bruce’s. Bruce realized that they were screaming of _confusion._

“Why?”

_Why_ , Bruce echoed in his head. He had just told Loki that they were his brother’s companions and the only answer they got back in return was the question _why?_ Bruce was only given a lot more reasons to be worried.

It was Steve who spoke up next. Natasha and Tony threw him a look of warning.

“Do you know where Thor is?”

That was easy. Loki could easily say that Thor has been very successful of escaping the ship alive even after it exploded. But when Bruce noticed how Loki’s eyebrows furrowed and looked like he was deeply thinking for something to answer, he knew right then what was about to happen.

“I don’t see how it should concern you,” Loki responded, in a somehow biting tone which all of them could recognize easily. _Bitterness _.__ “He is in Asgard, he must be.”

This was bad. No scratch that, this was much worse. Steve sighed at him, totally caught off-guard by the response. Natasha did not flinch, but the worry was painted all over her face.

Loki looked back at his fingers, and Bruce watched him as he played with the light, not realizing for a moment that this man has forgotten about them, about his nonexistent home place, about nearly everything that had occurred before Thanos came back to kill him.

Bruce reconsidered actually punching Loki square in the face to knock some senses into him. Thor was going to be _so_ hurt.

…

There had been several occasions when Thor found himself in a crisis of wondering if he was either feeling a sense of content or comfort. He just didn’t really know where the thin line between those two started and ended.

The first time he’s felt it, he was going to be announced king. He was _about_ to be, until those frost giants laid their hands on the Casket of Ancient Winters and alerted the Allfather in the soonest possible ways, throwing the kingdom into an uproar of fearful cries. Thor was comforted by his brother, felt content when he himself had stepped a foot to their land to compensate for their betrayal. But when Thor found out that it was Loki who had sent the word to the frost giants, Thor had lost feeling for either of the two.

The second time he’s felt it, Odin was dying. He and Loki found him on the edge of a cliff, setting his eyes out to the horizon, as if he had been waiting, anticipating. Thor felt content with the idea of seeing Odin once again, was comforted by the idea that he had stopped their end and Odin would be able to come home again. When Odin disappeared into golden ashes, he imagined Hela’s hand puncturing into his chest, ripping his poor heart out.

The last time Thor has felt it, it wasn’t really last time. It was on the now, as he paced slowly from the high of his run, found more fluency in his steps, and walked back towards the field outside Clint’s homestead.

Surprisingly, Thor felt content and comforted by the sight of his home.

To the unaccustomed eye the field was just grass, grass, and more grass. Before Thor had adapted to the green that surrounded him every day, he saw nothing but blandness in the sight.

Now he was able to notice beautiful swathe of rolling green divided by trees of oak and sugar maple, picturesque by any standards.

The sun was a radiant, all-watching eye, its light creeping into every corner, bathing the whole field in a warm glow. Thor stopped for a while, appreciating the home he has come to accept, and continued walking toward the farm house.

When he got closer, Natasha was already meeting him halfway.

“I take it you had a good run."

Thor chuckled warmly, greeting Natasha with the grin that followed. “Does it look like I did? I was beginning to feel very imprisoned in the house.”

“The thing is, we all do,” she answered, and Thor threw her a quick glance which Natasha returned as well, but only longer. “It has been a couple of months after all.”

Right. Thor felt it would be unwise to ignore her words, the way she said it, the way she _sounded_  saying it, but there just really wasn’t anything on his tongue to say.

He wasn’t mad, felt like he was nowhere close to actually feeling like so. Thor only felt a quick pang in his chest at the words. Just a quick one.

They no longer spoke, not until they reached the doorstep and Natasha laid one of her hands on Thor’s shoulder to stop him from trudging inside.

Thor tried reading her, but the problem was, it wasn’t doing anything. So he quirked his eyebrow, awaiting a word from her.

“There’s something we wanted to show you.”

Before he could react, Natasha was already pushing at the door, Thor’s eyes following the movement. And when it was open wide enough to see the other heads looking at him from the other side, Thor saw him, right there, in front of his eyes, nothing but the pale figure of his brother and the magic radiating within him.

Thor’s limbs moved as if some inexperienced person was controlling him remotely, and his eyes were wide, looking right at his brother, but not really.

Loki wasn’t facing him entirely, only planted to the couch as if it was in his nature to ignore everyone and block out the rest of the world.

Thor could see the bruises on his neck, the aching sight of nothingness in his eyes, the worn out clothes he had on, the glowing light between his fingers, the subtle trembles from his lips.

Beneath Thor’s feet the wooden floor felt all too concrete, but it was as if the ground was already beginning to swallow him whole. His chest rose in an uncoordinated rhythm and Thor felt like he could suffocate any minute. With the sight of Loki in front of his eyes, breathing and very much _alive_ , Thor felt like he was thrown into space all over again. Too realistic, too much, too _much_ , and he refused to believe it.

But when Steve nudged Loki’s shoulder the slightest, he looked up from his fingers and his eyes met Thor’s.

In a way, Thor felt like all of the air was being forced out of his lungs, to have him choking on his own words, begging, screaming in his head for nothing but air and air alone.

He wasn’t speaking, he couldn’t, because every word from his vocabulary had been erased from his head and all he could muster up was also the only word that mattered to him at the moment.

“Brother.”

When Thor spoke, his voice trailed slowly, like the words were unwilling to take flight. And as if the ice had been cracked, Thor broke out from his trance, rushed to Loki and grabbed him by his shoulders, throwing his arms around his lean figure to absorb it all, almost expecting him to vanish.

His tears fell before he could even stop them. Then again, he couldn’t bother stopping them. A warm feeling spread across Thor’s chest and he was then reminded of the warmth he always got from having Loki by his side.

Loki’s hands did not falter. Thor was hoping that he too would be grabbing at Thor like his life depended on his brother, but no. Just… nothing. Just silenced voices, loud stares, and the sound of his heart drumming wildly against his chest.

Thor pulled away, slowly, somehow feeling a sense of uncertainty, but still doing so to properly look at his brother.

Loki was paler, much paler, except for the bruises around his neck screaming red. He grew lean, but rigid, Thor guessed it to be more on the inside. His eyes were locked on Thor’s, but inside them was nothing but an empty space.

A voice was speaking, Thor could not tell who, but he guessed it was Steve. They were watching, silently, allowing the brothers grasp the truth of their fate.

“He doesn’t remember much.”

When those words came out, Thor’s tears fell even more, a mix of relief from the reality of it all and confusion over his brother’s state. Loki’s eyes weren’t tinted with sadness, the green in them wasn’t too glossy.

Thor expected a word. Or a sound. Or anything that was quite audible and came from Loki himself because Thor was growing very, very desperate.

Instead, Loki lifted his hand in a cautious manner, like he was still uncertain of whatever he was about to do. His hand stayed like that, clasping closed in the next second, and Thor was seeing glowing green.

His tears had tried. Thor thought he had blinked them all away but soon realized that it had been Loki’s doing.

His hands loosened on Loki’s shoulders, but his eyes remained locked on his brother, who looked worn-out as he had been missing, but still alive. _Alive_. Thor had to repeat that twice before realizing that he still wouldn't be able to believe everything that was happening no matter how much he’d have to remind himself.

Because everything was happening all too quickly. Thor had mourned and moved on too quickly. Loki had returned to him too quickly.

Thor had to force himself to accept the weight reality was giving him even though he was entirely against it. Thor had already gone through so much, and he just couldn’t envision himself having to go through all of that again. Losing Loki, at least.

Thor would not be able to set himself through.

Several hours had passed. Loki was given a room for himself which he entered as soon as he got it. Thor watched the spot on the floor where Loki had just been standing. He felt like there was something on that certain spot which he cannot place but Thor knew he had only been spacing out.

No word has ever come out of his mouth ever since Loki had left the lounge, but none of them seemed to have minded it. Instead, Bruce suggested to talk him through, and explained where he was found, but not _how_ , and definitely not how he survived.

Steve took the chance to sit next to Thor on the bar stool. Surely, Thor would’ve been thinking about the words Steve had said earlier.

_He doesn’t remember much._

Only that it wasn’t the thought that bothered Thor a lot. It was Loki’s survival alone, how he had managed to regain strength after being choked by Thanos, after being dragged into the ship’s explosion, when Thor himself had almost lost his life.

So later that night, Thor stood in front of the door to Loki’s room, despite his brother asking to not be disturbed at all costs. There was a sick feeling in his stomach. Something about this just didn’t feel real.

But when he pushed the door, his eyes immediately caught the figure of his brother looking out from the window with his back to the door, and suddenly Loki was very, very real.

Thor closed the door, the sound of the wood creaking catching Loki’s attention. He looked behind him, not meeting Thor’s eye, but it sent a feeling of unease in the room.

Step by step, Thor approached the window. It was like walking above a thin sheet of ice all over again, and just one wrong step would cause everything to shatter broken.

When he was closer, Thor noticed the movement in Loki’s fingers. They were shifting, aching for something, for a spell, for a trick like it was the only hunger of every sorcerer known. Thor sensed that Loki wanted to do something, but was only holding himself back.

“I remember now.” For a room filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing, Loki’s voice was almost too soft.

It was the first time Loki had ever spoken in a proper manner, as if he had already found the comfort of talking to his own brother.

Thor looked to his side. Loki had his eyes set on something above the field. “You do?”

“It is not much, but yes.”

Thor hummed. Loki’s tone had turned more comforting. “Then tell me what you remember.”

“Your companions,” Loki answered. His eyebrows furrowed before his face relaxed again. He had been thinking. “It is a vague memory, I cannot recall all of their names. But they are indeed familiar.”

Fair enough, Thor thought. Perhaps this could be manageable.

“What else?” he had asked. Loki kept the silence stretching for a few seconds.

“Father… he’s gone.” he said, turning to Thor. Loki was finally looking at Thor and it was as if all the strength he had left in his limbs were drained out. Then there was a pause. Loki’s gaze was fixed, face blank, but eyes curious. “Are you king?”

Somehow, Thor found himself at a loss for words. But Loki didn’t seem angry. His lips were pressed to a thin line and the look on his face only gave out his curiosity. So he nodded. “Yes, I am. But that only applies if you rule with me.”

Then Loki was chuckling, humorless, and if Thor wasn’t mistaken, bitterness also lacing his tone.

Loki shook his head dismissively, returning to study the field from the window. “There’s nothing left to rule.”

“You remember,” Thor said in a non-accusatory tone. Asgard was gone, and Loki still clung to the fact. Thor wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel terrible or relieved about it.

“I did just now,” Loki nodded, then he was shifting, now facing Thor, causing him to feel very small. “Why did you hug me, brother?”

Something pulled Thor’s gut beneath his skin. It probably wasn’t even beneath his skin, but inside him, somewhere deep down, somewhere that had control of his actions and how he should act from the emotions swirling inside his head. Only that his head was already a mess. Loki’s words stung and Thor could not understand why.

So he scoffed instead, taking the slightest offense in the statement. “Must I elaborate the gesture?”

“I have the right to know,” Loki answered, stilling completely, hands now dropping to his sides. His eyes were no longer on Thor. “You might not be certain about matters, brother, but you do know that I do not like hugs at—”

Thor just didn’t have the strength in him anymore. All the dignity he possessed was lost.

He grabbed Loki by his shoulders, pulling him into his chest, like it had always been there, right here in Thor’s hold, in Thor’s grasp, that he felt the safest. Loki did nothing to alter the sudden action, and did nothing more than to accept the gesture when Thor pressed his lips atop his grown dark hair.

For a moment it was just the two of them, breathing deeply in each others space. Loki’s fingers began twitching again, soft light glowing again but soon fading, and the twitching had stopped completely. Loki began to relax.

“How long was I gone?” Loki whispered softly, breathing heavily against Thor’s side. It seemed like he was dreading the answer.

“Seven months, brother.”

“Seven months isn’t too unbearable in our realm.”

“But we are not in our realm,” Thor spoke, wanting to make it clear to him.  “We are here now, and things are different, things are still changing.”

Loki used his hands to push himself away and Thor let him. He pretended not to notice how Loki seemed to be too unbothered over the shared gesture.

“Seems like it’ll take some getting used to.”

Thor took that as a chance to remain silent with his thoughts. Loki no longer said anything, and the stretch of silence in the room gave Thor enough time to recollect this thoughts, to process everything, to just _breathe._

“How did this happen?” Thor had asked, wanting to know more from the truth. His eyes held so much pain and the slight quiver in his voice gave it off. Loki noticed every single detail.

“I found out one of the depths of magic that even I failed to realize before,” he started, walking over to the bed with Thor trailing closely behind. “See when you are on the brink of your life, the last second you spend breathing, your magic becomes as strong as the wave of suffocation when exposed to space. My body just had enough time to heal itself, and when I regained the slightest bit of consciousness…

“I felt it.” His head snapped in a haste move to peer at Thor again, who was anticipating much more, holding his tongue like it could soon chant mantras. “The power, it was the strongest I ever encountered. With that I tried a healing spell that might make me able to suffice through the lack of air. And I did, but it also began wearing off after a few moments. I searched for Heimdall, but when I did, he was already gone. I couldn’t heal him, however the sword still held power, and that power being my last hope to be cast here.”

Thor’s brain formulated no thoughts other than to register whatever Loki was saying. Then it all started making sense. Loki’s body betraying him, his magic doing the healing on its own to keep the power flowing through his veins, resurrecting him, bringing him enough strength to fight through death as how he should.

The thought alone that Loki made it through was enough for Thor. His fingers folded around nothing but air, and relief flooded in his chest.

“I already knew you weren’t coming back,” Thor spoke, his words losing flight. “I believed in it. It just wasn’t possible.”

Thor was reminded of the nights he had spent picturing his brother after the explosion. He was reminded of the anger that controlled his mind and his soul, screaming in despair as if it had poisoned his blood.

Loki was listening. Thor could tell by the expression on his face as he sat on the bed, pale hands resting on the sheets.

“But you know you can never be too proud of anything,” Thor continued. “As much as I tried hiding it, I still waited for you. Even when it hurt to accept the truth, I still did.”

Now Loki had his eyes on Thor again, and in them Thor could finally see the green. He gently placed a step forward, contemplating to approach the bed where his brother sat. “Loki, Not once did I ever stop believing in you.”

“It must have been hard for you then.”

That pushed one of Thor’s buttons. Loki’s tone was calm, _too_  calm.

“Was it, for you? Hard?” Thor had asked, face finally falling. Loki said nothing. “Why did you not search for me, brother?”

That was it.

Now it was Loki’s turn to have his face falling at his brother’s every word. “I never said I didn’t, Thor.”

So it was _Thor_  now. He ran a hand across his face before properly staring at Loki like he had just been convinced that the sky was green instead of blue. It was as if they were teenagers again, Loki being the master of keeping his emotions intact and Thor not once ever being able to read him.

Thor, puzzled, drew in a sharp breath.

“I just chose not to.” Loki’s voice was scathing, but only to his own ears. His eyes on Thor were unsparing and it took Thor so much not to fall apart right then.

“I’ve kept myself locked in that land where I could not recognize much. I spoke none about myself and none about the people I wished to see.” Loki’s eyes dropped to his hands. They were drawing out light once again. “I spoke none about you, asked none about you.”

Thor’s yell echoed through the room like a clap of thunder, the sound mirroring the skies of the evening. “Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Loki chuckled humorlessly, balancing himself on his feet again. “Are you really still that slow-paced, brother?”

“Then tell me!”

That was the breaking point of Thor’s patience.

“What would I have heard if I had asked about you?” Loki was full on yelling now. The light from his fingers intensified as they grew close to unlatching a spell. “What good would that have had done to me?”

The window they once stood in front of shattered into glassy shards, and the sound of glass breaking from Loki’s magic contrasted against the roaring thunder in the sky.

“Do not be a _fool_ , Thor!” Loki continued, ignoring the ache in his chest and his inaudible scream for silence. “Did you really not know well  _enough_  of me, brother, to think that I absolutely would be able to make it through once they tell me that you're gone?”

Words flew from Loki’s mouth that he never thought he'd even think, let alone say out loud. He knew instantly from the look in Thor’s eyes that they'd hit their mark.

By the time he had finished yelling his voice was so hoarse he could barely speak. Loki dared not a single glance at his brother for he knew what weakness the sight would give him.

“Loki.”

The sky was silenced by then, thunder no longer booming from Thor’s rage. Loki waved his hand, and the shards of glass returned to their original shape.

“I feel restless,” Loki spoke up, his head hung low. He waved his hand again and the door behind Thor was pulled open. “Leave at once.”

“I cannot,” he shook his head at the thought, and Loki’s eyes snapped back to him.

Thor was in so much pain his complexion was ashen. His natural golden skin had sunken in tone to something so lifeless it upset Loki just to look at him. His eyes were half-closed but still full of dejection.

“Leave, brother,” he was pleading now. It didn’t take long for Thor to notice. The door behind him was open and waiting and Loki’s eyes were begging him to go. “Or I might have to disappear.”

Thor did not like that idea at all. “Are you now fully capable of your magic?”

“I’ve healed,” he answered, looking at Thor as if he had gone full stupid. “And I’m still fully capable of vanishing myself to go hiding if you don’t leave.”

That was the truth. Loki had always been terribly good at hiding, but it was Thor’s least favorite thing about his brother because Loki would never appear until he decided he wanted to. It just wasn’t worth fighting for.

Loki’s body began illuminating with glowing green, and before he could disappear, Thor took his pale hands and pulled at them as if he was asking Loki to stay.

Loki let him, watching Thor continue the gesture before pulling away, looking into Loki’s eyes with the slightest glint of sadness. “Good night then, brother.”

Back in his room, Thor wasn’t able to fall asleep. The passing of the night slowed after three hours of thinking in his head and by midnight, everything was put into a quick, albeit weary, spin again.

His arms were stiff from being held in the same position underneath his head. His breathing was coaxed into a steady rhythm. His muscles ached and her tongue was dry from the words he had exchanged with his brother that night.

Something heavy settled on his chest. Thor could not place what if was but he knew that it was only pulling him down, making him want to crawl to himself and shut the world out.

He closed his eyes shut. The never ending blackness consumed everything his head, except the sight of Loki screaming at him with the words _once they tell me that you're gone._

Thor kept them open instead, settling for the harmless darkness in his room. The sight of his brother would not escape his memory, and it was terrible that Thor could tell that as early as now.

Truly, the time he had spent thinking his brother was gone had left him swallowing the whole truth. Frigga and Odin’s deaths were just as painful, but the aftermath of Loki’s death had given him a reason to give up completely and stop hoping.

“Well, what if you’re wrong?” The raccoon had asked him.

“If I’m wrong,” Thor trailed out, rethinking for a moment. “What more could I lose?”

Thor knew that there was nothing left to hope for.

So when Loki came back, he was suddenly forced to question all of the things that had happened to him in the past few months. And when Loki said the words that Thor thought he would never have the chance to hear, he began to question everything about his own brother.

A trembling gush of wind inaudibly drifted across the room. Thor followed the trance, and suddenly Loki was there, at the foot of Thor’s bed, still dressed in a worn-out light weight of cotton instead of his leathers.

Thor didn’t even notice that he had entered. He sat up from the bed, suddenly growing concerned as to why Loki had visited him. He sat upright in front of Loki, reaching for his pale arms, only for Thor’s hands to pass through.

So he came only as an illusion. Thor had to pretend that he wasn’t at all disappointed at the fact as Loki had already been doing this countless times before until Thor just grew tired from it.

He wasn’t going to be disappointed now.

Only that the uneasy expression on Loki’s face was clear even through the darkness in his room and Thor just didn’t have the heart to ignore it. He felt vulnerable in that moment, they both did, but there was definitely something wrong with Loki tonight.

When the silence became deafening, Thor began thinking of something to fill the air but Loki was already speaking.

“I waited for you,” he whispered, like it was a secret only he and Thor should know. Then there was silence, Thor had allowed it, quickly suffocating them again. Loki’s mouth opened for a second, closing in a haste right after as if he was trying to say something but just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Thor stood by his patience, urging his brother that it was okay. And when Loki noticed the sincerity in his eyes, he drew in a sharp breath and whispered again, “I always did.”

Loki’s hair had fallen behind his ears, exposing the pale skin on his neck. His voice remained solemn and grave but Thor knew that inside he was already broken.

Thor leaned in and pressed his lips to the skin on his brother’s forehead, Loki’s illusion leaning into him as if he could feel the gentle touch. Thor was pressing against nothing but cool air but he could still feel Loki, right there, right by his side, where his brother should always be.

This was good. It felt different, but nothing told him that this was far from feeling right. With Loki back, he felt like he could finally be able to sleep with untroubled thoughts.

His chest was warm and the aching had long gone. Thor stayed unmoving against his brother, absorbing everything in, waiting for Loki to whisper the words again because he will never get tired of hearing them finally being said out in the open.

“I _always_  will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that, i REALLY do because unlike me I was a crying mess after loki's death :<
> 
> Credits go to the rightful sources. More oneshots will be written soon, so stay tuned.
> 
> Also, if you please, you can comment down plot suggestions for my next fic. I would appreciate your suggestions VERY much. 
> 
> Kudos and feedback will be highly appreciated. Thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
